Chapter posted: 15th November 2020

Thanks to excellent Tigercry for beta'ing. You would not believe the typos this draft had.

Chapter 19: Rivers and Rain

There was nothing but the sound of the jungle and the splashing of oars into water. Fatigue was marked into his very bones. Had he been under attack, he wasn't even sure he could move to protect himself.

It had been a tiring few days.

Kirito studied his HUD's notepad with a scrunched look, with as serious of a demeanour as when he studied for his entrance exams.

Sword Art Online was published 15th May 2052. The first floor was beaten on the 15th of June. It took thirty days for the playerbase to beat the first level due to the depression and bad morale and. Afterwards, from Floor 2 to 11, it had taken an average rate of beating a level of thirteen days, give or take a few days.

The defeat of the 11th Floor Boss was quick, a mere eight days. The 12th Floor was quickest, the easiest since there was no boss fight at all, and only took a week.

It was now the 27th of October, or as the game puts it, 27th Harvestpoint. In total, it had been 165 days since the game began.

If the thirteen days rule was applied towards every level of Aincrad (except for the first), then it would be 13 times 99. That would equal 1287 days.

Add that plus the first 30 days of Floor 1, by Kirito's estimation, it would take 1,317 days or 3.6 years to beat Sword Art Online.

That, in Kirito's opinion, was pure fantasy. It had only been five and a half months? It felt like it had been seven years already.

"Col for your thoughts?"

He sighed. "We might finish the game in three plus years. By that time, that would mean I would wake up from my coma at age twenty."

"You're still young," said Heathcliff. "Don't dwell too much about it."

Something about his tone irked Kirito. "Easy for you to say. I've got a life! I've got college. I've got family."

Heathcliff frowned. "So do I, Kirito."

Shame filled him and he was about to apologise when the boatman spoke up: ""We're almost back at Perisai. Get ready."

They had followed the river upward for a better part of four hours, all the while keeping Spiegel alive. Thanks to Haakon's handy Medicine skill and the support of the others, they had made him as comfortable as they could.

Spiegel looked like shit. But he was alive and that was a victory in itself.

The party made a makeshift stretcher from what was left in the cavern. Haakon and Heathcliff carried Spiegel on it while Kirito scouted forward. Out in the open, even in the dark, that was a gamble. But it was the quickest route, and without stronger medicine and a good bed there was a high chance Spiegel would die from his wounds. His max health was halved and a single good knock could kill him.

It took three days of running around the jungle to find the villagers. It would have taken just as long to return to base.

It would take longer to return. But somehow, almost as if the game was being easy on them, a boat had passed by.

Kirito hailed them and the dozen legionaries of the Sons of Mars aided a fellow player in need.

The return was almost smooth sailing. Of the twelve players, only two were left to help row the team back.

The port was a mess of debris and wreckage but a path had been cleared in the following days of the attack. Even then the rowers were careful as much of the towers still lingered in the harbour. Labourers and elephants were hard at work hauling the debris out.

They docked at one of the port's few surviving jetties. Everyone on the boat carefully brought Spiegel up. When that was done, Kirito saw Heathcliff spoke to the rowers, handing him a pouch of coins.

Kirito and Haakon brought Spiegel where the healers tended to the many wounded, the makeshift hospital built into one of the sturdier warehouses.

"Help! We got a man wounded!" Haakon called out and a couple healers came out to meet them.

The healer put a finger on Spiegel's pulse. "It seems his condition has been stabilised. Give him some good food, nothing solids mind, and he'll be back up in a while."

"Any permanent damage, ma'am?" asked Kirito.

The medic, a black girl with a British accent and the patch of 8th Company on her shoulder, just smiled. "I'm no ma'am, just call me Victoria."

"We are in your debt, allow us to repay you," said Heathcliff, reaching for his coin pouch again.

"If you want to help, you can help donate to the charity drive, we're always in need of more medical supplies." She was referring to the pot of money in the middle of the refugee camp. The fact no one had stolen from it speaks to the severity of the situation.

"Very well, then. Regardless, thank you Miss Victoria."

After the medic left, Heathcliff excused himself to speak to the quest giver and get in touch with some other higher ups. Haakon merely plopped on his folding chair and was instantly out cold. Spiegel was already healing as Kirito saw his health bar progress little by little above his head.

It was only after that did Kirito un-tensed. His body, for three days unwound. Months of solo adventuring had taught him the utmost carefulness. He only let down his guard in safe zones and even then he always kept a blade handy.

He checked his armour, his gambeson was torn and filthy. The sole of one of his boots was missing. His helmet had begun to rust, the nose guard had become bent at some point. Kirito touched the bridge of his nose and only then noticed the wound and tried to recall when he got hit there and failing. He reached the mirror that hung on the tent's only pillar, popped open a poultice and smeared the medicine over it.

It almost surprised him to see a stranger staring back at him through the mirror. What looked back at him wasn't the pale, boy faced teenager who had bags under his eyes from playing too much video games. It was a gaunt face, hair long enough it could cover his eyes and almost reaching his neck. It was never an issue with his hair being under a helmet 95% of the time. The last time he cut his hair was back during Floor 7, if he recalled?

Damn. He needed a bath and an emergency visit to a barber.

Gathering his things, he stepped out of the tent and was greeted by the sight of smells of the war camp.

The war camp was the non-official term adopted by the playerbase. In the early days of SAO, they came in all shapes and sizes. He had been in more than a dozen of these camps and the more the camps went on, the more efficient and streamlined they became as players learned how to campaign. Despite this, they all had the same elements regardless of size and guild.

Camps will be set up a ways away from the dungeon. If a village was nearby, players would trade with them for food, supplies or medicine. The big guilds dominated the available space, muscling out the smaller guilds. The smaller guilds shared. It was not uncommon to have a dozen small guilds share a space, campfire and other amenities together. Game was hunted, food was foraged, and water was collected.

He supposed their party of five could be considered as a small guild. Small guilds outnumber big guilds by a considerable margin. His guild shared space with six other guilds, each camp fenced off by string on poles. Asuna negotiated the deal. Apparently some of them knew her. He couldn't recall which guilds they were, he always had issues recalling names.

After the initial purge of enemies of Perisai (which most players weren't a part of), the process of rebuilding had begun. Even from a distance, he could hear the busywork of stonework and carpentry. He could see the main road where a caravan of buffalo and elephants came with supplies. The walls and business districts of Perisai were all but destroyed. The main keep of Perisai still held the refugees, leaving the players to camp outside the walls.

Kirito walked past a row of sutlers, both PC and NPC alike. Where there were soldiers, there were merchants, camp followers and healers.

He reached his destination: Merchant's Row. There was always a spot for them and players were all too happy for their service. There were weaponsmiths and armorers at their anvils; bowyers and fletchers woodworking; tailors with needle, thread and the latest fashion; cooks with full menus and many others.

It spoke highly of SAO's FullDive engine that he couldn't tell who were PCs and who were NPCs. There was no clear in-game indicator of one over the other. This led to quite a bit of competition. Some amongst the playerbase refer to player-crafters as NPCs too. Kirito found such sentiment more than a little rude.

He found himself a cobbler and left his boots. He gave his broken gear to an apprentice working at the counter. Both businesses were run by NPCs.

He didn't have a preference for one or the other, if they could do their job then that was enough for him. There were some players who posed as merchants for the sole purpose of stealing and robbing other players, though those were just rumours and he'd never had such an encounter.

There was a sudden ringing of a bell and someone shouting, "Lunch time! Come and grab your grub!"

The mess hall was a long common area made of sturdy bamboo and with dried leaf roofs. Having separate cooking sites was more nuisance and risked a fire, having a centralised and shared field kitchen was usually preferred. Fuel and food was shared alike according to the deals made by guild leaders. There were usually two per war camp.

His stomach growled and made the decision for him. Showering can wait, he supposed.

He stood in line. There had to be about thirty players already. He could smell ramen.

"Hey, did you hear about the new mob?" the guy behind Kirito said. He was wearing the red and orange surcoat of the Gokkuen Gun and was speaking to a fellow member.

"Yeah, I heard there's pirates around. We're hunting pirates?"

"Nah, dude. We're hunting pirates and necromancers."

"No shit, huh? We ain't never fought human enemies before. It's always been monsters. This must be the first time."

"No no, there's been a few quest where people track thieves and bandits. They're just a bit uncommon."

"Why's that? Do they pay more?"

"I dunno, man. Do I look like a Specialist to you?"

Kirito filed the information away. There were so many quests in-game added post-launch, he couldn't keep track of all of them. It's like when everyone passed Level 10 the game decided to release more quests in the earlier levels to let late players get into it. He wasn't sure how this was possible, considering Argus was likely detained by the Japanese government, but that was the power of SAO's engine, making randomly generated quests as well made as if they were man-made.

There were safer jobs like guarding farms against pests and predators, long jobs like guardian caravans and jobs that required crafting. Kirito still carried ink and vellum around, Cartography and scouting quests paid well too.

Monster hunting was far more common and lucrative with good material drops which were always in demand. Highly dangerous yes, but also highly rewarding in XP and materials. Even with the pacification of grinding spots by guilds, there were far too many locations and not enough manpower to take all of them.

Lucrative. He thought of his financial situation. He considered himself one of the more well to do players. Solo play was dangerous, but he could also afford taking on quests that were usually given to parties. A 4000 Col quest to find a rare artefact isn't much when you consider the money would be split four ways.

It also meant more danger and more maintenance on his gear. If a dungeon ran well, he'd have nothing to show for it other than a nicked sword. If it went bad, that would mean fixing his armour, paying for medical supplies and of course, trying to haul his considerable loot.

He was so deep in his financial management he was only snapped out of his thoughts by a tap on the shoulder.

"Hey man, you're next," the player behind him said.

"Huh, what?"

"C'mon, dude. I want to talk to the cutie too," said his friend behind him.

He moved without thinking and was greeted by a familiar face.

"Asuna?"

"No time to talk, Kirito-kun." She briskly dipped a ladle into a large pot and poured the ramen into a bowl. "Got work to do."

He was surprised at the sudden change. The Asuna of before was a warrior in full armour, raging with a berserker's fury and was ready to 1v1 a dragon.

The Asuna of now was wearing an apron, had her hair tied in a headwrap and slaving over a fire. It was the Asuna that invented the party to dinner all those weeks ago.

"Be sure to bring that to the washers, there's not enough bowls for everyone."

Kirito looked at his ramen. There was a particular large chunk of beef in it. He did recall telling Asuna that he really liked beef ...

"Weren't you on another quest before? Looks like you're back," he said.

"One of the deputies needed someone to help herd cows from a village on the other side of the level to here. And when that was done, one of the horsemen I travelled with offered me a job to help cook for our little field space. Said that not enough of his players knew how to cook, and those Vietnamese players mentioned me by name, remember them? How was your quest finding those villagers? Actually, don't answer. Get out of the way, you're holding up the line and I'm talking too much.

"Right, right." He wanted to chat more, but he was running out of things to say. He could hear people tapping their feet. It was like being in a line at the convenience store while people burned their eyes on his back while he fumbled for his wallet.

From out of nowhere, he blurted out, "You look great, by the way."

Asuna stopped her work, raised an eyebrow and promptly looked the other way. Her cheeks were just the slightest shade of pink. She was frowning.

Kirito wished he had his sword right now just so he can fall on it.

"Thanks," she said with a slightly embarrassed smile. "You smell like zombies."

"Yeah, I'll get to that." Next quest: Buy the most expensive soap he can get and burn his current clothes.

"You better get going," she said, returning to her pot.

Kirito around lost in thought, barely registering the food in hand. He had the dumbest smile on his face.

Head in the clouds, he didn't notice what was happening until the yelling started.

The line had erupted into angry curses. There were two players, a stocky youth and a lithe older man, standing where he just stood. Everyone was staring daggers at them.

"No cutting!" someone said.

"Get back in the line, asshole!" said another.

The two players were clad in mail hauberks and wore a surcoat of yellow over their frames, tantos and katanas on their belts. The surcoat had the icon of a boar on their backs, the words Yamazaki Inoshishi written in Hiragana. One of them, the older of the two, had a gold pauldron shaped in the head of a boar, more gaudy than cool.

The younger of the two, a man with the build of a brawler and a nose that broke too many times, dipped his finger in the pot and took a lick. "Damn, this is some good ramen! Aniki, you should try this!"

"Sir, please step away from the pot and return to your line," said Asuna.

The elder one tsked. "It's not good as Satoshi's, but it'll do. Girl, get us a bowl and a table. And maybe some wine, huh?"

"Excuse me?"

The Gokuen Gun player behind Kirito stepped up to the man and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey old man, why don't you go back and we'll forget all about this?"

The man responded by throwing his fist into the player's jaw. The player was thrown back and was caught in the arms of his comrade.

It was in that moment that Kirito was harshly reminded that the world outside the walls were not Safe Zones.

"Who the fuck do you think you are, boy?" he roared. "Do you want me to cut off your fucking fingers? I'll goddamn do it, you shit!"

"Yeah, you show him, aniki!"

The man reached for his tanto and everyone backed off or left. The man's name and level popped up in everyone's HUD: Manly Mano, Level 17.

Kirito scanned everyone else in the crowd, and a glance, most people's levels were much lower. Some were still even single digits, no wonder people are afraid. The highest aside from himself and Asuna was the Gokkuen Guy that got his nose caved in, level 17.

He reached for his dagger and only then just recalled he left it in his tent. He spotted a sheathed knife from one of the frightened players and easily pilfered it without him noticing. Kirito hid the blade behind his back and readied himself to get into a knife fight.

He may have been Level 20, but there are such things as winners in knife fights.

"Excuse me!" said a sing-song voice.

Boar Guy turned around and was met with cast iron to his temple.

Kirito wasn't sure how damage calculations worked with cooking utensils, but he did not deign to find out.

Instantly, the man was out cold, lying on the floor with visible stars circling above his head.

Asuna tsked to herself, examining the bent pan. "This is my favourite pan. You're paying for this."

"Aniki! What the hell did you do, you bitch?" The other man reached for his tanto.

Kirito wanted to shout.

His words never left his throat as Asuna leapt towards him and delivered a sick downwards strike with her pan. He had seen her do that with that shamshir of her multiple times.

The other man collapsed to the earth, chin first. He too was out cold.

Asuna dusted off her apron, and as if the incident never happened, spoke briskly, "Alright everyone, please return to your line and food will be given out as usual!"

Cheers and claps erupted. There was even a whistle.

Asuna taken aback by the sudden cheer blushed every so slightly and curtsied. She caught his staring and gave him a quick wink.

The Gokkuen Gun players volunteered. Rope was produced from somewhere as the Boar Duo's hands were tied and were carried out of the camp. Knowing the usual etiquette, chances are the guild will pay a fine or will be asked to leave.

As stealthy as he took the knife, Kirito returned it to the rightful owner. They were none the wiser.

Kirito returned to his tent and as soon as he did, Haakon woke up. "Is that beef ramen?"

"It is."

And with that, the viking was off without another word.

He placed his bowl on the table and covered his face with his hands feeling the heat in his cheeks.

Great. Now he was blushing.

"Good news, we got paid in full. Bad news, the quest giver no longer requires our services," said Heathcliff.

It was night and the team had returned to their camp after a wash at the river. They had a dinner of rice and venison. Asuna acted like Spiegel's nurse when she saw his condition, much to his embarrassment.

News of the confrontation between Asuna and the two thugs had spread like wildfire. Haakon so impressed at her gusto he broke out his best sake which Asuna accepted with grace. Kirito wished he could give her something other than a plain "good job".

"What?! But we barely just started! I'd like to try my hand at that damn wizard!" Haakon slammed his glass on the table.

Spiegel, now awake and sitting up in his cot, had barely even touched his food. "Haakon-san, you just got back."

"I want to get back in! We take the fight to the enemy! And if I find the bastard that did this to ya', I'll send them to Hel myself!"

At the mention of the event, his smile faltered just a bit. "Thanks, I appreciate it."

"Aye, don't worry about it, lad."

"So we're out of a job? The Kraton doesn't want to hire us anymore?" asked Kirito.

Heathcliff checked his notebook. "Not exactly. They're fine with big guilds, what with working with the Gokkuen Gun, the ALF and the Sons of Mars. They just have little in the way of use for us small-timers. You're either in a guild or you're not."

Asuna finished her sake before adding, "Usually most NPCs would love nothing more to hire us to fix their problems. This place is different. Even the odd villager gave me the stink eye when I was herding cows."

"They don't like sellswords, they've got bad history with them," says Heathcliff. "Which is understandable. I wouldn't like a bunch of violent, armed strangers on my doorstep either."

"So what now?" asked Spiegel, putting his food away. "Go off elsewhere for a quest? Sorry, but I'm not really in any condition to travel."

Heathcliff put his notebook away. "They won't give us small jobs, but they didn't say anything about working under the bigger guilds. I've spoken to Legatus Scipio, she'll allow us to join some of her men for another hunt if any of you are up for it."

"Didn't you work with them before, Kirito-kun?" asked Asuna.

Kirito recalled working under Caesar back in the Level 10 Boss Dungeon, the former, deceased guild leader of the Sons. Even then, the game threw mobs and changed perimeters to one up the players, much to the surprise of the ALF that was running the dungeon.

They were for the most part alright folks, even if they took their Roman roleplay a bit too seriously in his opinion.

"Yeah, they're alright. It's been a while since I fought in formation anyway." Of all the guilds, the Romanboos were all right.

He changed his mind. The Romanboos were the worst.

He thought they were going into the jungles again. Technically they were. In a way.

"Move, tirones! Put your back into it! We ain't got all day!" roared the sergeant - sorry, Optio. Bastard even had a whip in hand.

"You sure you know how to use a hammer?" ask another player. Unlike Kirito, he seemed to know what he was doing.

"I've used hammers!" he said. Technically, he used the odd warhammer here and there. The last time he used a hammer for its intended use was in workshop class two years ago.

They were next to one of the many rivers on the level, a day's march away from Perisai. The team had to leave by the crack of dawn, leaving Spiegel to heal and Asuna to resume her own backlog of quests.

When asked why Heathcliff, who himself had a good horse, didn't join her, he merely said, "I want to kill the necromancers too."

"So does that mean -"

"No Kirito, I'm not selling you my horse. I doubt you can afford it." Heathcliff was right about that one.

In the distance, there was a yell of "Timber!" and a loud crash. Another tree fell for the voracious appetites for the Sons of Mars.

The camp looked less like a camp for soldiers and more akin to a logging camp. Of the big three, the Sons were the one with the most uniform required character builds. Though flexible when it came to weapon specs, they required every member to do their fair share of labour and for one person each to specialise in one non-combat spec. That was either Smithing, Woodworking, Cooking, Medicine, Sewing, Alchemy, etc.

While every player did that to a degree, no guild but theirs made it mandatory. In Kirito's opinion, their combat style of loose ranks and throwing javelins was closest to his own fighting style.

Carpentry was the highest non-combat skill for Kirito, and that was mostly because he tended to make his own ladders from time to time. So when he was assigned for work, this was what he was assigned to.

In the distance, he could spy Haakon and Heathcliff chatting it up with this unit's leader, one Centurion Sergius in his tent. Apparently the Centurion knew Heathcliff and invited them to catch up on old times.

Kirito, who had his head low of his own choosing, was not invited. Whatever, he was never one to let a chance pass up to level up.

He pulled his hand back as a jolt of pain flared through his thumb.

The other guy, whose name was Keita, chuckled at his fumble. "You just need to level that Carpentry of yours a bit."

The bridge, their main construction project, had just started. The river was a good ten feet in length and deep enough to reach a man's chest. The Legion was short on boats, other Centuries were doing their own operations.

If Kirito was alone, he would have put his things in his best waterproof sack and swim across but that was a no-go if you wanted to march a small army into dangerous territory.

He worked from morning to noon. Keita, who was roughly his age, had taught him the basics like the difference between a back saw and a bow saw. He was glad for his instructions.

It was hard work under the hot sun and humid weather. His back hurt, he caught too many splinters, and hammered his fingers a little too many times he cared to admit. He acquired more damage getting hurt building things more than he did running the odd quest.

The final boss isn't even going to be fighting gods or whatever the hell was atop of Aincrad, it would be him requiring to go through Workshop Class again.

On the second day, the Centurion asked for volunteers to scout. Though Sergius had a hundred players, only twenty were proper scouts - Explatores as they call them. The other two Centuries were busy training or questing.

The Centurion, in his shiny scale, wearing his plumed helmet said to all in attendance, "This is no crypt run, no hike into the hills for a little map data. No! It will be wet and hard, cold and hot. There will be bugs every step of the way. If you think the forest is unfriendly, jungles are that but times four!

"You will fall ill, you will lose your boots, or you may even drown. Pirates? Hah! You'll likely die to a venomous snake than a sword swing, I'll tell you that much. Chances are that many of you will not survive. So, do you have what it takes?"

Real motivational speech that. Really gets the blood boiling.

No one answered, not even his own legionaries, which Kirito noted were roughly in the level range of 12 to 15. That was another pro of adventuring solo, you don't share XP with everyone else.

"Either that or you can keep working on that bridge," he said.

A good number of the players in attendance stepped forward, including him.

A few minutes later Kirito was gearing up for the quest with a few others at the camp's armory.

"Ah, young Kirito, you should have joined us drinking with the Centurion! Good man, that Sergius," said Haakon. He had switched his typical round shield for a rattan one and dulled his helmet.

"Oh you know, I was working." He couldn't keep the bitterness out of his voice but Haakon didn't notice.

The scouting force placed their mail into their bags and wore their best gambesons. Heathcliff had painted his shield with a green camo, and all three brought bundles of javelins.

They made preparations for another dive into the jungle. Usually Kirito had to provide for his own medicine and rations but the Sons watched over their own; yet another pro in joining a guild, there was always someone looking out for you.

There were thirty scouts in total, half of which were Explatores, the other half auxiliaries - a term large guilds denote to players who weren't guild members. The lead scout was a woman in her thirties named Optio Mad Makoto..

Kirito's group of ten had Haakon and Heathcliff, and six others he didn't recognise. The man in charge of his squad was an older man who had the gear of an archer.

He introduced himself. "Alright, the name's Hunter Nara, but you can call me Nara. Don't worry, I'm not gonna ask you to start wearing red and speak in Latin or whatever."

He got a few chuckles out of that.

"What I will ask is that you follow my orders, shut the hell up, and don't whine, you got it? Your survival is my responsibility, and I ain't good at writing letters if you're dead."

They boarded boats, three in total. Six players rowed in their boat with Hunter Nara up in the bow scanning with his sharp eyes.

The river was green and there seemed no end of the trees. It was mangrove trees as far as the eye can see, trees with roots extending far above the riverline. Okinawa had them, Kirito had seen them in his youth but not to this degree. It was like the trunk of the tree decided to split into dozens of smaller trunks. Under these roots were schools of fish, enough to feed entire settlements.

They passed by other boats, a few other players probing into the jungle, many others NPCs. These local fishermen cast their nets into the water and looked at the players with suspicion. One boat had his father shielding his son behind him. Why are they so afraid?

Whatever questions he had weren't to be answered, the Optio had strictly forbidden small talk. It suited him well, loose lips get people killed.

After half an hour of rowing, they could see a fishing village.

Optio Makoto signalled the others to follow her. The fishermen by the bank looked at them with a sense of hostility. The children playing on the bank ran inside their homes. More men emerged from the huts, with machetes and oars in hand. Kirito placed a hand on his sword.

Then Heathcliff's early words returned to him. If he were a fisherman with a family, he'd view armed outsiders with some suspicion too.

Makoto alone left the boat.

They stayed there in their boats as Makoto went into the village. She returned a few minutes and signalled everyone to beach. The locals only stared at the players with the same suspicious expression.

After some distance away from the locals, Makoto said to everyone, "These folks are under the protection of the Laksamana, he's the lord of the 13th floor. That means no stealing, no billeting. You eat and sleep on my orders. Understand?"

"What do you mean no stealing?" asks one of the auxiliaries.

His teammate shushed him. It was the worst kept secret. Where there were players, there would be thieves preying on the NPCs.

"I don't want to hear any complaints about missing food, missing chickens, missing anything. You steal a fishhook and you'll be returned back with no pay, and not just you, all of you. One of you slips, the other goes overboard. Understand?

"All right, we're heading northwest. Let's move, shut your mouth and keep on the lookout. Here there be slavers."

On the first day, there was much whining from the rookies. No amount of hushing from the squad leaders quieted them. Kirito didn't of course, and neither were Haakon and Heathcliff. The Sons in the party were too disciplined for that either.

At the campsite, Mad Makoto forbade any fishing. She claimed it was to be stealthy, to stay away from the prying eyes of the pirates, but part of it was to quiet the complaining Kirito assumed. She also forbade from eating the rations and suggested everyone to forage or hunt.

"Then what the hell are we supposed to eat? This place isn't exactly filled with deer, you know" one auxiliary asked. He was level 10.

Makoto grabbed the knife from her waist and threw it at him. The auxiliary screamed.

He turned around and finally noticed the huge snake nailed to the tree.

"Cook that," she pointed before turning to leave.

He looked at the snake with a mixture of horror and disgust. "But I don't know how -"

"Figure it out."

Heathcliff volunteered to cook some snake soup.

There was much less complaining after that.

On the second day, they were roused from their beds. The rookies had cleared the brush by hacking or burning and laid their bedrolls there. The experienced players either made hammocks or slept on small platforms. A tarp filled with leaves, small wooden frames tied with twine, that sort of thing. Kirito and Hunter Nara preferred the simplicity of sleeping in a tree.

The rookies had nary enough sleep. Bugs crawled into their bedrolls and bit them. Someone even found a scorpion, crushed on his backside. A good six of the auxiliaries stayed at the camp to guard and heal, the rest went hunting.

A few hours later, Kirito's squad stumbled upon an abandoned village. They approached with caution.

There were signs of life. A still smoking campfire, brooms dropped in the middle of the yard, baskets of fish lay rotting in the sun, plates laid out on tables. Half the doors of the huts were left open. It was a village that could have easily supported three dozen villagers.

And three dozen villagers don't just disappear.

The team investigated further but there was nothing left. No food, no belongings, nothing save for a particularly large pool of dried blood in the middle of the village.

They found tracks heading deeper into the jungle. The tracks ended by a river. Hunter Nara cursed under his breath and ordered everyone to return to camp.

They were halfway there when it suddenly rained. Nara ordered another backtrack to the village, at least they would have roofs over their heads.

At night, they all huddled in the largest hut in the village. The windows were covered and fire was lit. They saw and heard nothing. Nothing but the heavy rain and howling wind.

By morning, the rain had stopped. They needed to rendezvous back with Makoto and the rest of the Explatores. The earth had turned to mud and everything was wet, a couple players slipped and fell, the uneven terrain becoming even more of a hazard. Kirito almost tripped on a branch and cracked his head on a rock.

By afternoon they returned to the main camp, already abandoned. A soggy note was all that was left, ordering everyone to head northwest and follow the trail left behind.

The trail was the usual footprints but also just the barest of hints: a leaf folded over with its petiole thrust into itself, pebbles on rocks pointing in a direction, and strategically broken branches. Even Kirito had a hard time finding them.

More marching and more mud. Kirito worried his sword would rust before he even had a chance to use it. At least the game had the decency to award XP for the whole ordeal.

They chanced upon a large river, one just as large and imposing as the one the Sons were building over. The rain had made it deep and the current was rapid.

"It doesn't look too bad, maybe we can swim?" said Haakon.

Debris of thick branches and pieces of wood flowed at the speed of a horse's gallop right after the suggestion.

"Maybe not."

"Are you sure this is where we're supposed to be heading?" asked Kirito.

Hunter Nara pointed to a tree across the river. "See that tree? There's rope around it, I recognise the make, the Sons made it. This is the right way."

They walked downstream searching for where the river was narrowest. After a good half hour, and fearing they might lose the track, Nara made the decision to cross the river, a good seven feet in length.

Everyone took out their machetes and saws and got to work. None of the players had any points in Carpentry, which made the process take even longer than expected.

After forty minutes of trial and error, they finally made a somewhat competently made bridge of branches of twine. It looked sturdy enough, someone commented. Kirito doubted it, but they had to make it across.

It was starting to rain again.

Some of the players lodged rocks upstream, in hopes to stem the tide of thick debris. The effort failed, for no matter how much was thrown into the river it was all swallowed up.

The rain returned with a vengeance.

The first player passed taking a good five minutes. Then the next player passed. He almost stumbled and his helmet dropped into the river, forever lost. Kirito made sure to tie the strap of his helmet tightly to his chin.

When the fifth player passed, it was Kirito's turn. He alongside the rest of the team had used a pole to pass his backpack to the other side, armour and sword tucked safely inside. The only thing he had on him was his helmet and his dagger.

The water had reached the top of the bridge, submerging the middle part of it. A foot in and he already felt the water soaked through his boot and sock.

It was only ten feet apart, but it must have been a mile long. He breathed in, kept his arms spread out. Slow and steady.

He was halfway there when Nara on the other side yelled something. He waved his hands and pointed at the river, shouting. Kirito couldn't hear him over the sound of the downpour. Heathcliff was shouting too but the rain was blocking their voices. Then he turned to look.

It was a corpse of a rotting cow coming straight at him.

He didn't even have time to react. The cow corpse crashed into the bridge, smashing it into a million pieces. Kirito fell into the river as cold water consumed him.

He was moving at a hundred miles per hour, flailing around. His mind tried to make sense of the chaos. Which way was up? Was he upside down? Why was it so dark?

A fish swam past him.

A sharp pain erupted from his shoulder as he crashed into something. The pain was too much, he let out a pained yell and instantly realised his mistake. Water rushed down his throat.

He reached up to the surface to breathe only to narrowly avoid jagged rocks in the way. His head scraped into something and he was ever grateful he didn't remove his helmet. His lungs screamed for air and he barely had enough time to even get the smallest amount before the waters pulled him down again.

Down and down he went, alternating between trying not to die from drowning and smashing into the debris in the river. His hand reached for something wooden, a barrel? A plank? But as soon as he tried to haul himself up, it tipped over, and sent him down again.

The sky thundered and the rain poured without mercy.

Was this how Kazuto Kirigaya was supposed to die? Not from dragon slaying, not from saving a baby from a burning house, not in bed of old age, but by drowning in a video game?

It was so absurd, he could almost laugh.

Kirito didn't know how long he was in the water. It could have been a few minutes, or a few hours. His eyelids became heavy. He could just sleep forever.

Enough video games. He was sick of video games. He just wanted to sleep in his own bed and hug his mother again.

No, he had to fight it! He had to stay awake! He willed himself to fight the oblivion that was encroaching him.

Oblivion won.

The light pierced his eyelids. Kirito awoke to the sight of the blinding sun in the bright blue sky.

He rolled to his side and vomited water. His very body was in pain, shaking from the cold. Everytime he breathed it felt like someone jamming needles into his lung. He felt as if his nose was made of ice.

A glance at his HUD showed he was at 40% of health. His health tab showed he was suffering from a broken shoulder (-60% weapon swing speed), bruised ribs (15% more damage taken) and hypothermia (-15% blood pressure).

And to think Spiegel took a beating a few days ago.

He was suffering no hypoxia, thank God. He didn't even know how that would affect his virtual body.

He contracted into a fetal position. He clutched at the sand (warm). He can take a moment to rest and figure where the hell he was.

"Well, well, the death hath cometh back to life."

"Hah! You owe me ten kanakas!"

"Yeah yeah, shut up you bastard."

His heart jumped and he felt a hand clutching at his cheeks as he felt something poured down his throat.

He sat up (bad idea), and pain shot up through his entire body. But the pain in his lung subsided, ever so slightly, and a warmth spread throughout his body.

The man beside him had the look of a fisherman. Tanned leathery skin, thick curly hair and a wispy moustache. He handed him the cup and Kirito greedily took it, drinking more of the precious liquid.

"That there is the doctor's own special homebrew tea. Ya' can thank him later, boy. Once you get your wits about you."

"T-t-thank you." He was so cold. The tea was piping hot but he didn't care. He needed to warm up.

The man pulled out a knife. Kirito turned to him but the man said, "Calm down, we just need to get those clothes off or you'll stay cold. The sooner this happens the better."

Kirito nodded. Carefully, the man sliced his clothes open leaving him shirtless. The man was right. Already the sun was beginning to warm him up,

"Who are you, boy?" asked the man. He had two other fellows with him, two burly men with bodies covered in tattoos and scars. One of them threw him a blanket to which Kirito immediately wrapped himself with.

"K-K-Kirito."

"Saw you floating down the river, the lads there, they had a bet whether you lived or died. You just made muscles there a richer man."

He laid a hand on Kirito's shoulder, a strong hand. His fingers had a dazzling array of rings.

The other two fellows came closer. One a mountain of muscles, the other lithe, both walked with a confident swagger. They had elaborate swords on their belts with all sorts of precious stones embedded in the hilt and scabbard.

His heart sank to his stomach when Kirito realised who they were.

"What were you doing there by the river, Kirito?"

"Fishing." The lie came to him as natural as breathing, even easier considering his condition. "I slipped."

"You slipped?"

"I s-slipped."

Muscles pointed to his head. "This wouldn't be your helmet would it?"

It wasn't his helmet, it was the player that went before him. "No. I'm too p-p-poor to afford such fancy gear."

The man shook his head. "Unlucky. Say, you wouldn't be a fan of the Kraton would you?"

Kraton? Right, that was the local government in this realm.

"Can't say I do." He tried to keep his voice steady, his mind went through a dozen plans, all of them ending with those fancy swords in his gut. "H-Hate them, in fact."

"Do you now?"

"Yes." Another lie came to him. "They killed my old man, because he refused to give him his f-fishing haul."

"Fuck nobles!" said the lithe man. His right leg was a wooden peg. "An enemy of the Kraton is a friend of mine, I say."

His comrades nodded in agreement.

Kirito smiled back, thinking of any way to save his skin. "And who do I have the pleasure to be saved by?"

The man who revived him, smiled back with a toothy grin, his teeth were two rows of shiny gold.

"I'm Toothless Timo of the Darhaka. Well met, young Kirito."

I have return after a month of writing for October. If you haven't read Tabletop Fantasy Offline, you probably should.

I am so psyched about writing the pirates. They've been in planning for years. And where there are pirates, there are ships. This is what you guys mean when you want more ships right?

Don't forget to review. I'll write faster if you do.